


A simple feast

by Nalyra



Series: Of Lambs and Lions [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Will, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon Compliant, Claiming Bites, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fanart, M/M, Mating Bond, Minor Character Death, Murder Husbands, Old hurts, Omega Hannibal, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Season/Series 03A AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:32:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9858065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: A new years dinner and new suits, at an old friends.Now, with -them- it's never that easy, is it^^.Oh and no - 'they' don't die^^





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been discussing this with vinylmurdersuit who I gifted the first part of this series to, because - while I am (purely personally!) not a big fan of mpreg, here... it had to be addressed. Because, all things considered, Hannibal pretty much exudes behavior to underline my characterization canonically. 
> 
> I'm not going to go into more detail >here

„Turn left here, please.“

Will carefully turns the corner, the wheels of the wheelchair squeaking a bit. His breath fogs in front of his face, illuminated by the gaudy decorations in the high class store windows, bathed into surreality by the snowflakes still drifting down. Hannibal indicates a small entrance with the wave of his hand, and Will pushes him in silently, keeping check of their surroundings out of the corners of his eyes. 

„There is no one here, Will.“

Will harrumphs, more on edge than annoyed, tonights anticipation spreading through him slowly. There is a soothing echo along their bond and Will sighs, closing his eyes for a moment before forcing himself to relax, waving at the nameplates with his left hand.

„Which one is it?“

Hannibal hums and then takes a keycard out of his wallet, smirking up at Will who grins somewhat amused, deciding on an impulse to kiss the smirk off of Hannibals mouth, biting softly, Hannibals small gasp allowing him to push his tongue deep, providing a deeper, richer moan that settles somewhere deep in Wills body, waiting to fully bloom into arousal. He draws back and licks his lips, Hannibals eyes almost black on his, temporarily out of breath and a comeback. Will grins slightly, pushing his bemused tenderness along their bond, taking the sting out.

„Ah, so that’s what’s needed to get you to shut up…“

He steps back swiftly, just in time to be out of reach when Hannibal tries to grab him, chuckling softly, eyes glittering with mirth. Hannibal clicks his tongue and then inhales deeply, shifting slightly, his voice deadpan.

„It may have been a good decision to wait with kissing after all. However…“

He pauses, tilting his head back and stretching his neck on purpose, the scar glinting silvery in the low light and the sight of it slams right through Will, the following words heard as if through a fog.

„However, I expect it all, tonight, Will.“

Will closes his eyes and fights the impulse down to pull Hannibal out of that goddamn wheelchair, the images way too vivid in his mind. He inhales deeply to calm himself, cursing silently to himself when he catches the drift of Hannibals arousal, oozing like a sirens call along their link. He swallows, trying to deflect with humor.

„You know what they say about pressure, ‚darling‘?"

He puts extra emphasis on the last word, somehow expecting to be rebuked but Hannibal only grins at him, eyes flashing, words rumbling low between them.

„Good things come to those that wait? We have waited weeks for this night, mylimasis.“

Will exhales in a rush and then laughs softly, letting the arousal simmer as it will, grabbing the keycard with a shake of his head. He pulls it through the small slot next to the door, which swings open almost soundlessly, the entrance hall thankfully empty. Will pushes Hannibal through and then pushes the button for the elevator, checking both ends of the hallway carefully.

„I hope we’ll be ready when the ingredients and suits come…“

Hannibal checks his watch, shrugging slightly.

„Still half an hours time. She knows better than to put up a fight.“

The elevator opens and Will pushes him in, pulling the keycard through again, the light for the penthouse lighting up. Of course. The ride up is silent and Will is weirdly calm, feeling as if this is something that was supposed to happen since their weird dance started. The door opens and he pushes Hannibal out and in front of the apartment door, tastefully splendid in modern function and cream. 

„Do you want to simply barge in?“

Hannibal tilts his head up for a moment, smiling softly, before reaching out to ring the bell. Will steps sideways slowly, just in case, his fingers flexing in the leather gloves. Her steps can be heard as measured, a small pause as she obviously checks through the spy before there is a small pause, the door swinging open after a moment with the sound of an electronic buzz. Hannibal smirks, his voice gentle.

„Bedelia, may we come in?“

She looks at them calmly for a moment, her nerves only betrayed by a small twitch in her lip, silently bidding them to come in with a step back and sideways. Will inhales deeply when he pushes Hannibal in, his hackles raising as they always do when near her, silently acknowledging the other Alpha with a nod of his head.  
Bedelia closes the door behind them, hesitating a moment before she steps up to them, hands clasped demurely in front of her stomach. She inhales discreetly, one eyebrow rising elegantly, her voice exhaustedly deadpan.

„I see congratulations are in order.“

Will grinds his teeth for a moment, the Alpha in him bristling at the tone, fighting the impulse to rip out her throat. He closes his eyes and counts to three, opening them again with a smile, dripping with fake geniality.

„Thank you, Bedelia.“

The buzzer sounds and Hannibal interrupts their staring contest with a small chuckle, obviously enjoying himself. 

„Please let the courier in, Bedelia.“

Bedelia raises her chin and turns, pressing the button with a slightly defensive stance, the three of them waiting in silence for the delivery to arrive. Bedelia signs the delivery of crates with various groceries, her face drawn, frowning when a second courier steps into the apartment, carrying the suits. She takes them and fakes a smile, nodding once, watching the door closing with a small thud, effectively sealing them back in a bubble of reality of their own making.

Will holds out his hand, silently asking for the suits, and Bedelia traces the covering for an instant, her voice distant.

„Will I survive this night?“

Will inhales deeply, turning his head away towards the windows, watching the dark skyline for a moment, referring to Hannibals judgment in this, gladly, now. Hannibal rolls up to Bedelia, reaching up to take her hand, thumb softly stroking the bones, his tone kind.

„We only require a token of your dedication to seal the past, Bedelia.“

A pause and Will can see the small movement in the windows reflection, sees the minute flinch she cannot suppress as Hannibals hand drops down onto her leg. His lips twist, his voice harsh between them.

„You did try to run.“

He can see Hannibal turn his head towards him, feels the amusement shiver along their bond. She inclines her head and walks over to the cabinet, carefully controlled, her hand hesitating over the glasses, voice containing a suppressed tremble.

„Would you like a drink?“

Will turns, inhaling deeply, something in him shifting, taking command, tone deceptively soft.

„No. Please help yourself though. You will need it.“

She nods shakily to herself and Will ignores the almost burning look that Hannibal levels him with, reveling in him, as always, and this time Will enjoys it, fully, his teeth aching, his neck prickling.


	2. Chapter 2

Bedelia drinks herself into a stupor in utter silence, watching Hannibal prepare the vegetables and fruit, navigating her kitchen easily in his wheelchair, refusing to let Will help.   
Will settles on the sofa on the other side of the big room eventually, arms on the headrest, legs crossed, letting the Alpha in him dominate for a while, the relief to just give in to the impulse palatable. He observes the effect this has quietly and a bit sardonically, Bedelia drinking even faster, Hannibal inhaling oh so quietly from time to time, shooting him dark looks whenever he can look up from the food preparations, the emotions across their bond making Wills insides tingle. 

He licks his lips and grins when Hannibal has to pause cutting a potato, shaking his head once at himself. Hannibal directs his attention to Bedelia with an effort when she stumbles, seating herself on the high stool close to the kitchen, her grip on the glass white knuckled. Hannibal tilts his head, his expression betraying intense curiosity, no veil between them to mask his emotions. Will calls the question out, beating Hannibal to it, discerning the subject easily from the emotions in their bond.

„Why did you never try to bite him, Bedelia?“

Bedelia frowns, swirling the scotch around in her glass for a moment before she takes another sip, her answer stilted and vaguely amused.

„He would have ripped my throat out, genetic dynamics be damned.“

She turns to watch him for a moment, eyes heavily lidded.

„He is no ordinary Omega, just as you….“

She pauses, finger pointing swayingly into his general direction, tone defiant, slurred.

„… are no ordinary Alpha.“

Will smiles at her, gently, words more to himself.

„It was inevitable, really…“

Bedelia snorts, holding herself up against the kitchen counter.

„Took you long enough…“

Will clicks his tongue, feeling the rush of arousal that his sudden fury elicits in Hannibal, his tone brooking no argument.

„Drink up, Bedelia.“

She smiles, brittle, downing the scotch in a huge swallow, and Will pushes himself up, walking over calmly, waiting until she puts down the glass on the counter. He picks her up gently and her head drops to his shoulder, hair tickling his face, her breath puffing against his throat.

„Will you squash the bird now, Will Graham?“

Will hums, turning towards the bedroom, his steps measured. He squeezes gently for emphasis, shaking his head softly.

„My impulses have never matched yours, Bedelia.“

He places her onto the bed, pushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead, his eyes boring into hers, voice very quiet.

„There is no need for me to destroy any former wives, Bedelia.“

He pauses, his smile radiant for a moment.

„We transcend those rules, now.“

She raises her eyebrows, eyes heavily lidded, unfocused.

„Freddie Lounds was correct then.“

Will smirks, covering her with the soft blanket.

„She was.“

He watches her drift into drunken oblivion quietly, returning to his murder husband silently, his fingers itching.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Mention of forced interference with bodily functions

Hannibal finishes preparing the vegetables silently, eyes lowered, a small smile on his lips, betraying the demure look he sports. Will walks over quietly, inhaling deeply as he crosses the room, the pheromones and pure smell making his head spin. He reaches out and grabs Hannibal by his lapels, lifting him up so he is up against the refrigerator, his mind sluggish. Hannibal watches him with black eyes, unflinching, a sharklike quality in them, taking him in, the hunger a visceral thing, gnawing at them both. 

Will bites his lips and clenches his hands, feels Hannibals come up to clench into his shirt, pulling him forward until they slot together against the cool metal, faces millimeters apart. A wave of need slams into Will, their bond aflame and he groans, refusing the rut with a push of pure will, clenching his teeth. 

He forces his head a bit back until he can comfortably look Hannibal in the eye again, the heat between them searing. Will swallows, feeling as if drowning, the hardness pressing against him not helping in the slightest. He forces the words out, gravelly and raw, clutching at the meaning to keep from descending into lust.

„We have never talked about this…. what about protection, Hannibal? Guess we were lucky last time…“

Hannibal freezes for a moment, the dissonance across their bond jarring. He licks his lips and Will watches, transfixed, aching, the meaning of the words reaching him as if from far away.

„We will not need protection, mylimasis. I am sorry.“

Will frowns slightly when the words finally register, the confusion pulling him back from the precipice slightly, his eyes flicking back and forth on Hannibals, voice quiet.

„Sorry? Why sorry?“

Hannibal blinks once, slowly, his face a mask of neutrality, their bond achingly empty. He presses his lips together for a moment, his voice very low.

„I will not be able to give you children.“

Will blinks twice, mind racing, feelings he did not know he possessed vying for dominance - fury, desperation, disappointment, relief, exhilaration, disbelief. Betrayal. He steps back and then carefully places Hannibal into the wheelchair again, stepping back more afterwards, fumbling for the words. He turns away, his hands coming up to hide his face for a moment, his voice muffled behind them.

„You… took away Abigail, Margots baby and Wally and now… I mean I don’t even know if I had actually wanted to have children with you, you told me I knew better than to breed once, but hell, Hannibal, how about…“

He trails off, shaking his head at himself, Hannibal deadly silent behind him, their bond hurting. Will sighs deeply, dropping his hands again, turning back around slowly. He locks eyes with Hannibal again, the red eyes burning into his own, needing this out, pressing on.

„Why didn’t you tell me?“

Hannibal closes his eyes for a moment, sounding as exhausted as he suddenly looks.

„I did not wish to deter your becoming.“

Will snorts slightly, derision heavy on his tongue.

„You mean you didn’t wish for me to turn to someone else.“

He crosses his arms in front of his chest, chin lowering a bit, glowering a bit at Hannibal.

„I wasn’t aware you were past that age… I mean, I know you’re older than me, but…“

Will shrugs, shaking his head again, huffing a laugh, tone close to exasperated.

„I mean, I’m not even sure why I’m so pissed right now, after all I wanted to check for contraception measures…“

Hannibals voice stops him in his tracks, brittle and dark, unflinching, his red eyes firmly locked at the level of Wills chest.

„They sterilized me at the orphanage. They did not want any surprises.“

The quiet echoes between them, the sound of the tear dropping onto the floor from Wills cheek like a thunderclap, the salty taste on his lips burning. Will closes his eyes for a moment, his face a mask of pain, thoughts racing, his whisper loud between them.

„It all makes so much sense now…“

He repeats the words slowly, echoing them, spoken so long ago.

„You don’t want me to have anything in my life that’s not you. Or yours.“

There is a resounding quiet and then Hannibals voice, breaking it, raw and defiant.

„Yes.“

Will opens his eyes again and looks at Hannibal, really looks, past the masks and finely trimmed nails, sees the gray and the lines, the pain, carefully hidden away from the world. He steps forward slowly, reaching along their bond as he does so, instinctually feeling he must be careful now, oh so careful. He sinks to one knee next to the wheelchair, slightly below Hannibals eye level now, who is still not making eye contact, uncharacteristically. He swallows, reaching for Hannibals right hand, threading his fingers through Hannibals, stroking softly.

„Does that mean you won’t go into heats?“

A clench of Hannibals jaw and then those red eyes lock with Wills, burning with furious and painful defiance.

„Only induced ones. And we just saw that you are well able to refuse them.“

Will huffs an emotionally exhausted laugh, drawing one hand across his face.

„Ah, not well, I assure you.“

He clears his throat, slightly tilting his head in an attempt at emphasis, throwing every ounce of feeling into the words, whispered.

„I do not need to lose my mind in a pheromonal insanity to want you, Hannibal.“

He swallows, slowly shaking his head, pushing the truth along their bond.

„I have always wanted you. It’s why I fought so hard.“

Hannibals head falls forward a bit, the silver bangs obscuring his eyes. Will reaches up, his hand softly clasping Hannibals neck, needing to reassure, needing to be very clear, his voice gaining in strength with every word.

„We will not need pups as something to bind us together, Hannibal. And… “

He pulls Hannibal down, tilting his head up so their lips hover over each other, dropping back down to a whisper.

„And with birth control out of the way we will be able to enjoy ourselves as we wish…“

He pushes up slightly and takes Hannibals mouth, silencing the words he can feel forming, kissing them out of Hannibal, each stroke of his tongue echoed with a push of desire, deliberately pushed along their bond until Hannibal breaks and groans, his hands coming up to clench into Wills curls, holding him close. Will tilts his head and deepens the kiss even more, becoming light headed with lust within moments, the hand gliding up his leg a flaming sensation. Will moans and then snorts when the buzzer of the oven sounds, breaking away with a guttural laugh, eyes sparkling. Hannibal watches him for a moment with a wild expression on his face, mouth open, lips wet, eyes suspiciously wet as well, all out of words for once.  
Will smirks softly and then leans near again, breathing the words against Hannibals lips.

„Don’t we have to get the meat?“

There is a flood rush of emotions across their bond, helpless devotion branding it, and Will swallows, sensing more than hearing the soft ‚Will‘ that Hannibal breathes, pupils dilating again in helpless arousal. He pushes forward and puts their foreheads together for a long moment before pushing himself up, stepping back.

„I will get her.“

He turns away only to turn back slightly, his eyes flashing.

„We’ll continue this later, Hannibal.“

He walks over to the bedroom slowly, feeling Hannibals gaze like a burning black hole, pulling him in.


	4. Chapter 4

Being a surgeon is a messy profession in Wills definitely biased opinion. He watches silently as Hannibal takes her leg off, carefully handling the amputation, keeping the blood loss to a minimum and yet… Will watches the red drip onto the white carpet underneath the living room table, just the perfect height for Hannibal to be able to reach everything.

Hannibal puts their pound of flesh onto a platter and turns towards the kitchen, anticipation shivering across their bond.

„Will, please put her back into her bed. There should be an IV infusion in the drawer that I retrieved the scalpel and saw from. Please hook her up to it and give her a shot of morphine.“

Will frowns, watching Hannibal wheel over, tone vacillating between amused and surprised.

„Why does she have a drawer with all that stuff anyway? Did she really believe we would come by?“

Hannibal throws a look back over his shoulder, a grin playing on his lips.

„I told her it would be a good idea to keep these things in her house, in case a patient would become violent once more. She was a surgeon once as well, after all.“

Will rolls his eyes, picking her up carefully.

„Is that how you got to know her?“

Hannibal puts the platter onto the kitchen counter, eyes almost glowing with the feasts anticipation.

„No. I met her at a dinner at a colleagues… She was the only one willing to push her own boundaries. Interesting.“

Will looks down at her unconscious face, pulling a face.

„Oh yeah, that she is.“

He steps into the bedroom and puts her onto the bed carefully, rummaging around until he finds the IV and morphine, reading the instructions and administering the morphine right away, the vein to find to insert the IV needle a bit more difficult but he keeps at it until he can find it, sounds of an electrical saw coming from the kitchen, the sound still sending shivers down his spine. He covers her with the blanket again, returning to the living room after, feeling weirdly calm. He hesitates next to the coffee table and then decides to ignore the blood, chancing a look at the clock over the mantlepiece.

„Almost 10pm already… Time flies when you’re having fun.“

Hannibal looks back at him for a moment, busy tying the banana leafs around the meat, now scrubbed and cut into pieces. 

„The meat will be ready by midnight. I wished we could properly roast it in a pit, but this will have to suffice.“

Will steps closer and helps Hannibal put the pieces into the oven, surprisingly untaxed by the knowledge about the kind of meat. 

„I’ll set the table.“

He turns to the dining area, but Hannibal catches his hand, holding him back, his voice firm but low.

„I knew that if I ever bonded it would be with you the moment I saw you, Will. I cannot turn back time, as you well know.“

Will swallows past the lump in his throat, knowing that, as far as apologies go, this one is the one he will likely get from Hannibal and he squeezes Hannibals hand softly, shaking his head once.

„Tonight will mark a new year. Lets start it off right.“

He pulls away, knowing from the relief shuddering across their bond that Hannibal knows, exhaling a breath he was not aware he was holding. He sets the table carefully and beautifully, turning to watch Hannibal move around in the open kitchen from time to time. He looks out of the window at the skyline for a long time, smirking to himself when the idea forms itself. He steps onto the rooftop terrace and pulls the items together slowly, pulling the coverings off and lighting the outdoor heating and the grill, bathing the surroundings in a dark red glow. He returns to the living room and carries blankets out, adding a few more sofa pillows for good measure.

When he turns he inhales deeply, the freshness of the cold air invigorating, the golden glow from the apartment beckoning. He watches Hannibal finish the preparations slowly, the food prepared and mostly in the oven, already smelling very promising. Will steps inside and walks over, mind made up, and Hannibals head snaps up, picking up something along their bond apparently. Will grins and then pulls the wheelchair backwards with him, his face very close to Hannibals, who wears an intense expression on his face, bordering on painful. Will swallows and the grin dies when he reaches the terrace door, opening it with a kick of his foot, the threshold jostling the wheelchair when he pulls Hannibal out with him.

The door swings back shut with a dull thud behind them, the night engulfing them, car horns and party music from far below bathing them both in surreality. Will licks his lips, dead serious suddenly, eyes locking with Hannibals, all the air somewhere else suddenly.

„I… we can go slow, if you want. Or… you could try again.“

There is a long moment where there is almost no reaction and then Hannibal sighs very softly, a note of gratitude rushing between them, followed by an inescapable rush of arousal and then Hannibal closes his eyes and tilts his head and -concentrates-. The world draws in and Will gasps, light headed with need, wanting, now. He hears the relieved chuckle as if from far away and descends on the sound, the wet hot heat addictive. Hannibals hands go in and hold onto his head, clenched in his hair and Will bends down, his own hands going under Hannibals hips, heaving him out and stumbling backwards, never breaking the kiss. They crash onto the outdoor sofa and Will moans deeply, hands roaming, pulling, squeezing. He pushes Hannibal up and onto his back, his mind fuzzy, fingers fumbling with their clothes, getting into the way of Hannibals, equally desperate, the cool air around them, only heated by the outdoor heating doing nothing to cool their ardor, the heat of their skins a distinct counterpoint. 

Will breaks the kiss and bends his neck to lick and suck at the bite mark, the smell driving him ever deeper into need. His hips start rolling of their own accord and Hannibal pulls his legs up very slowly, muscles still weak after the reconvalescence, his hands pressing Will onto the mark. Wills hands drop down and cross his stomach, helping to bend Hannibals legs up and the shift rearranges their body just so and Hannibal groans, deeply, when he feels Will line up, holding just there. Will moans deeply, the wet sensation viciously tempting, their bond aflame, but he forces his head up, panting, snarling, needing to see. 

Hannibal locks eyes with him, pitch black and Will pushes, harshly, sheathing himself in one deep thrust, watching those eyes glaze over and unfocus slightly, coinciding with the deep groan that forces itself out. Will grins wolfishly and then retreats, holding again, limbs shaking with the force of mind needed to not simply fuck. Hannibal snarls at him and Will grins broader, putting force behind the next thrust and Hannibal gasps, eyes closing for a moment, seeming impossible darker when he opens them again. Will pushes Hannibal up even more and puts his legs on his shoulders, bending him up, panting harshly, open mouthed, muscles tensing and then Hannibal closes his eyes again and another wave of -want- hits Will and he falls into it, willingly, thoroughly taking now, his hands locked under and around Hannibals shoulders, bruisingly tight. The almost vicious slams drive them both up the bed, the flimsy furniture squeaking with every thrust. Will changes the angle slightly and shortens his thrusts, feeling the knot inflating slowly, some part of him still watching Hannibal closely, even though he is chasing his own pleasure now. 

He reaches up with his left hand and pushes two fingers in Hannibals mouth and that mouth locks around them and Hannibal convulses under him, sticky warmth between them, and Will gasps, powering even harder now and then there is a sound and Will echoes it, knowing he will chase that sound until eternity. He feels Hannibals rim catch slightly and then he hears Hannibal mewl again, a broken and vulnerable sound full of agonized pleasure and Will pushes his fingers deeper, his hips forcing the knot in, inflating fully just as Will touches Hannibals pharynx with his fingertips and he screams, falling forward, his teeth finding the mark and going in, viciously, feeling Hannibal convulse around him again, wet hot heat around his fingers as well, reverberating with a broken sound. 

Will comes to himself a while later, his fingers still in Hannibals mouth and he pulls them out slowly, the wet plop sending another shudder through him, the motion drawing another broken moan from Hannibal. Will licks at the bite mark, softly suckling, his tongue going over it again and again until Hannibal moans, deeply, arms and hands starting up a stroking motion again. Will can feel the humor before he can feel the chuckle, the words without any sting.

„Ah, I knew you would be insatiable…“

Will moves over and sucks at Hannibals adams apple for a moment, dragging his tongue over the stubble there. He whispers against the wet skin, asking but knowing the answer already. 

„And don’t you just love it…“

He lifts his head and pushes himself up a bit, their bodies locked, the motion drawing a sigh from both. He starts a small rolling motion of his hips, the knot dragging and is rewarding with a deep groan of Hannibals, mixed with a hiss of oversensitivity but Will grins and makes a shushing sound, earning him a skunk eye. Will chuckles and keeps the motion up, checking their bond for objections but all that reaches him is a helpless wave of love and desperate arousal and he bends forward, kissing Hannibal almost chastely. Hannibal hums against his lips, hands playing with Wills curls, eyes half closed, and Will smiles softly, knowing this moment is saved to a room in Hannibals memory palace. He whispers, voice deliberately lewd, hips pushing a bit on the upwards roll, drawing almost-whimpers from Hannibal.

„I have heard that attuned pairs can reach orgasm various times during knotting. I wonder where we fit on that scale.“

Hannibal gasps and then snarls, hands drawing Will into a harsh kiss, an almost wild look in his eyes when he draws back, words pushed out past the hurt Will can feel simmer just out of reach.

„Yes, but those measurements were done during breedings, beloved.“

Will narrows his eyes and then pushes harshly, watching Hannibals eyes roll up for a moment, feeling his own body already so close again. He breathes in harshly, teeth flashing, words gasped.

„Just because I can’t doesn’t mean I don’t want to, Hannibal.“

He presses forward with his weight and gasps, feeling Hannibal tighten and then break around him, wet heat hitting his stomach, the sensation drawing another orgasm from him, leaving him gasping and drenched in sweat, limbs shaking. 

He falls forward, hands gripping Hannibals head, holding tightly, his forehead pressing down onto Hannibals. He sniffs slightly, panting still, voice slurred.

„Always.“

Hannibals arms come around his lower back, legs still around his hips and Will feels like falling, drenched in sweat and semen and slick, bathed in both their pheromones and smell, drawing him ever deeper and deeper, his soul hurting with the feeling. 

It feels like coming home.


	5. Chapter 5

Will wakes after another short while with a shiver, the wind blowing gently across his back, his knot deflated again, their bodies separating again slowly through gravity. He sighs and pulls out, feeling stupidly proud when Hannibal moans, pressing a lingering kiss to Hannibals lips before he gets up and goes for some towels, wiping them both down. He shakes his head after a moment, snorting, throwing the towels onto the floor before he holds out his hand, shrugging.

„Shower?“

Hannibal blinks at him and then smiles softly, taking the hand and pulling himself up, eyes flashing.

„Yes, mylimasis.“

Will pulls Hannibal up, grimacing and then chuckling slightly at the mess and the corresponding sounds, dragging him slowly towards the bathroom inside with an arm over his shoulders. Hannibal is uncharacteristically silent next to him and Will carefully probes along their bond, feeling the pensiveness, his mind providing the reasons just fine. 

Will sighs, reaching out to turn the water on, his eyes locking with Hannibals in the slowly fogging up mirror. Hannibal leans forward and props himself up, locking his legs under himself, a look of intense concentration and relief crossing his face when they hold him up and Will smiles gently, tracing his hand down Hannibals spine. His eyes flick over the Verger mark, now somewhat softened by time, the indents muted, feeling iridescent fury for a moment before he lets it drop away with an effort, his voice hushed.

„Do you hate the mark of others on my skin as well?“

He feels the deep, cultivated and controlled rage along their bond before the words arrive, Hannibals eyes flashing for an instant. 

„Very much so, mylimasis.“

Will nods to himself, his hand dropping down to the barely healed and still raw scar next to Hannibals spine, his thumb pressing in until he can feel the flare of … something across their bond and Will gasps, pressing near, covering Hannibals back, pressing, making him take his weight. He throws a look at Hannibals face over Hannibals left shoulder, the Wendigo baring its teeth at him and Will burrows his face into Hannibals neck for a moment, feeling his own antlers spreading rapidly. He inhales, his words muffled against the soft and yet leathery skin, the twin sensations of vision and reality blending effortlessly. 

„Why were you on suppressants, Hannibal. Keeping off them would have thrown me a clue at the very least.“

Hannibal is silent for a long time, limbs shaking beneath Wills weight but Will persists, knowing it needs out. When the words come they are hissed, full of venom, betraying an old hurt, clawing along their bond.

„When you were in prison I read through your case files. Jack wrote down what you said about the ripper when you were looking for the organ harvester.“

Will exhales silently, his memory conjuring up the scene in the dark green hotel bathroom, shaping itself from the fog of thoughts. He repeats quietly, words cutting deep.

_„I see him as one of those pitiful things sometimes born in hospitals. They feed it, keep it warm, yet they don’t put it on the machines. They let it die. But he doesn’t die. He looks normal…“_

Will inhales deeply, closing his eyes, accepting the branding hurt, letting it batter against him, the waves of hurt retreating slowly, a wound that never quite heals. Hannibal lowers his head for a moment before he pushes himself up with all his force, pushing Will back and off, turning around with a hand on the counter, his eyes burning red.

„I do not want your pity.“

Will smiles sharply, closing the gap between them, his right hand coming up to grip Hannibals jaw in a bruising grip, teeth flashing.

„No. You want everything.“

Hannibals left hand leaves the counter and comes up to grip Wills throat, eyes boring into Wills. He pulls Wills head slightly sideways, his voice hard.

„Yes.“

Hannibal bites down into the mark and Will smiles, sending everything he feels along their bond, the coppery smell sating both their beasts.


	6. Chapter 6

Hannibal opts to take the wheelchair again after he is dressed in his suit, looking resplendent in the medium dark, patterned colors. Will puts on his own suit, dark blue, looking at himself in the mirror, smirking wryly when he sees the stark red line of the scar on his cheek, still so prominent, his stubble very short in order to keep the hairs from growing in. Will sighs softly, wishing for a beard and shrugging to himself after a moment, the situation not to be controlled.

He turns to find Hannibal roll up to him with a beautiful dress over his knees, indicating it with the wave of a hand.

„Would you be so kind as to wake Bedelia and dress her? Dinner is almost ready and midnight is almost here.“

Will purses his lips and raises his eyebrows but he shrugs, feeling decidedly calm, breathing a kiss to Hannibals lips when he takes it off his lap.

„Sure. I’ll bring her over shortly.“

He turns towards the other bedroom and steps in quietly, surprised when he meets her gaze, but relieved she is already awake. And quiet.

„Ah, I see you were more used to the morphine than we anticipated.“

He clicks his tongue, utterly honest.

„I hope you’re not in too much pain.“

She snorts and then grimaces, leveling him with a dark look, her voice low.

„He will tire of you, as he does of all his birds, you are aware of that are you not.“

Will inhales deeply for a moment, trying for a genial mask but failing, his voice icy.

„We are bonded.“

She clicks her tongue, her head turning back and forth on the pillow.

„Bonds can be broken if one dies.“

She pauses, eyes narrowing, her face pulling into an expression of distaste.

„You do not believe you will get out of this alive, do you.“

Will clenches his jaw for a moment, opting for the truth, literally hurling it at her.

„I do not intend to get out of this at all.“

She smiles at him and it infuriates him, her words having hit way too close to home, as always. He swallows and throws the dress over, turning around pointedly.

„Dress up Bedelia. Dinner is ready.“


	7. Chapter 7

Will has to give it to Hannibal, the dress he selected is a vision on her, her blond waves complimenting the low cut blue dress perfectly. He watches from afar as she takes the oyster fork, hiding it in her lap and he smiles grimly, his ire inching up a notch. He carries the food over to the table, ignoring Hannibals inquiring look and nudge along their bond, feeling slightly too unsettled to care just now. 

 

He pours the wine, expecting a stab but nothing happens and he frowns slightly, stepping over to push Hannibal over to the table slowly. Hannibal wears a mask of genial anticipation, the emotion ringing true along their bond, but incomplete. Will lowers his eyes, his expression grim and grave, mirroring hers, recognizing the showdown easily. He locks the wheels of Hannibals wheelchair and steps over, offering the knives for Hannibal to carve. 

He expects her to lash out when he serves but nothing happens, again, and he sits down slightly unsettled, Hannibals voice rousing him from his deliberations.

„She knows better than to stab you, Will. She will try to hurt me or hurt herself.“

Bedelia raises her chin in defiance and then reaches for her glass, toasting them both with it before she drowns it, her words extremely carefully measured.

„Have you come to show off your pet, Hannibal?“

Will clenches his jaw and downs his own wine, already done with the shit. Hannibal chuckles and Will shoots him a dark look, pouring himself some more before he gets up and does the same for Bedelia. Hannibal takes a sip, tone genial.

„The chrysalis is broken, Bedelia. You might wish to adapt your… prodding.“

Bedelia harrumphs and then takes another sip, swallowing before she forces the words out.

„My compliments to the chef. It smells delicious. However, I must respectfully decline.“

Will picks up his fork and knife, smiling sardonically.

„Oh, already full of yourself?“

Bedelia smiles at him, a vicious, biting smile, her eyes flashing even in her drug induced haze.

„I need to monitor my calorie intake now that you have lowered my possibilities for exercise.“

Will tilts his head at her, putting another piece into his mouth, the taste exploding in his mouth. He watches Hannibal savor his first bite for a moment, smiling at him before he turns back to her, curious.

„Why aren’t you at the end of the world, Bedelia?“

She is silent, taking another sip of her wine. Hannibal raises his eyebrows, chiming in.

„She did not think you would actually cross the threshold.“

Will snorts, part bitterly, part proudly, eyes stormy.

„Everybody expects always the best of me…“

She snarls at him, tone dripping with condescendence, her smile aloft. 

„Everyone expects you to not be so stupid as to bond a sterile Omega.“

The flare of hurt is drowned by the eruption of hatred and fury, the red haze gathering in the blink of an eye, the room shuddering to a halt when Wills hands close around her neck. He bends down, locking his gaze with hers, feeling her pulse rapidly under his hands, the pain of the oyster fork stuck in his side inconsequential. His whisper is almost inaudible, ringing through the room loudly nonetheless.

„He is mine.“

He blinks, tracing her jaw almost kindly.

"Guess I came to crush the bird after all."

And then his hands pull, the crack jarring the atmosphere in the room. He pulls his hands away with an expression of disgust, letting her slump in her chair, turning to Hannibal slowly, dark arousal and vicious satisfaction thrumming across their bond. He steps over slowly, their gazes locked. The clock on the mantle piece chimes, signaling midnight and Will bends down slowly, his hand coming up to cup Hannibals jaw.

„You are mine.“

Hannibal tilts his head up so his lips hover over Wills, heat sending shivers down their spines. His voice is gravelly, full of pride and violence, flaring in intensity, their bond tearing at both their souls.

„I am.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> 
> Soooo whadda'ya think *g*  
>  
> 
> Fanart by the incredible @noaryr (Tumblr), see me gushing about it in the comments :P here: http://noaryr.tumblr.com/post/156216455464
> 
> I think her style perfectly fits the gritty atmosphere I sometimes conjure up... and I love the expressions in their faces.
> 
> Also first time Bedelia dies, all my other series went quite differently. Still, felt correct, here.
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> Please, Kudos and Comments feed my muse and criticism IS welcome.


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